


yuletide carols being sung by a choir

by its_tortle



Series: tumblr drabbles and ficlets [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas market, F/M, Fluff, Holding Hands, Idiots in Love, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Tumblr Prompt, Unspoken Love, but clear love lol, its soft as heck, no beta we die like women
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:40:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27924667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_tortle/pseuds/its_tortle
Summary: based on the prompt "Remind me again why I can’t kill the carolers?” for the wonderfulhannah<3 💕🎄
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, background Natasha Romanov/Sam Wilson - Relationship
Series: tumblr drabbles and ficlets [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951201
Comments: 21
Kudos: 63





	yuletide carols being sung by a choir

**Author's Note:**

> happy second advent!! here's some more christmas fluff for y'all! 🎄
> 
> original and rebloggable post [here](https://its-tortle.tumblr.com/post/636798408969109504/okay-i-also-have-to-do-5-for-stucky)
> 
> title from the christmas song by nat king cole, my fav classic

“Remind me again why I can’t kill the carolers?”

Steve turns away from the display of earrings he was eyeing and looks over at his best friend. Bucky is glaring at the admittedly shrill group of carolers a small ways away with daggers in his eyes, and Steve almost coos at the amusing contrast between his cold stare and the way he’s bundled up in about two scarves and three sweaters.

“Because it’s illegal,” Steve supplies.

He turns back to the display, ponders the options again. He could go for the more intricate gold ones, but does Natasha wear gold jewellery? Maybe he should stick with the small black ones, but then that might be too predictable.

Bucky scoffs. “When have you ever cared about the law, Rogers?”

“I don’t care about the law when it’s  _ bullshit _ ,” he explains pointedly, “but I think the whole not murdering thing might be a good one.”

Bucky just glares at him, and then back at the carolers.

Steve rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Okay, Scrooge, are you going to help me pick these out, or what?”

Bucky sighs. He sidles closer to Steve to look at the display with him, and Steve curses himself for the way the brush of their shoulders makes his heart flutter. 

They’re each wearing, like, four layers of clothes. He’s being ridiculous.

Steve points out the three pairs of earrings he’s still deciding between and tries to explain his intent and thought process to Bucky. He knows he’s rambling, but he really does want to find the perfect ones. And he’s just not sure if she’ll want something bigger and more artistic, or something more sleek, or something classic. Bucky probably knows her better anyway.

When he’s done, he’s met with silence.

A look over at Bucky tells him that the brunet is decidedly not listening and has gone back to shooting daggers at the carolers. To be fair, the rendition of Jingle Bells they’ve just begun to perform is kind of atrocious.

Steve elbows him in the ribs, and Bucky gives Steve an expression so scandalized, you’d think he’d been stabbed.

And look, sometimes Steve really doesn’t know his own strength since he got so big, but through the many layers both of them are wearing, it couldn’t have been more than a light jostle. 

“That’s abuse,” Bucky remarks flatly. 

“No, it’s not. You weren’t listening.” Steve actually grabs Bucky’s arm this time to pull him up to the display and stands so that his head is between Bucky and the carolers. “Now help me!”

Bucky huffs, his breath coming out in a little cloud in front of him. “You’re so dramatic, Stevie. The options are all fine, and why are you so obsessed with it anyway? We’ve known Nat, like, two months.”

“I know,” Steve whines, “but I really want her to like me. I feel like she doesn’t.”

“Yes she does,” Bucky says quickly. “Everyone likes you.”

Steve gives him a look.

“Okay, fine,” Bucky shrugs, “not everyone likes you for some absolutely unfathomable reason, and also, Natasha is impossible to read and i have no idea if she likes anyone. Hell, I don’t even know if she likes Sam and she’s  _ dating _ him.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “Glad to hear I’m not the only one.”

“Yeah,” Bucky smiles, “but I know you have an intrinsic need to be liked, so go with the gold ones.”

Steve, startled, looks back down at the delicate gold pattern in the display. “Yeah?”

Bucky hums. “They’re very you, and I think she’d like them.”

So, Steve buys them. They’re a bit over the secret santa budget, but he really does want Nat to like them, and Bucky’s right, when has he been one for following the rules, anyway?

The vendor gives them both a kind smile and wishes them a good night, and when Bucky and Steve leave the stand and blend back into the bustle of the market, Steve feels filled to the brim with Christmas magic.

The air is cold, filled with huffs of steam from people’s breaths and the waffle stands and the hot mugs of cider and mulled wine. The snow on the ground is still white and powdery from when it had fallen that afternoon, and the lights strung over the whole square bathe the scene in a golden light. Off-key caroling and laughter ring through the air, voices carrying through the cold and up into a navy star-filled sky.

Bucky drags them over to the fresh cider stand, because he loves it, and Steve insists on treating him even though he had just spent most of his cash on the earrings.

Bucky doesn't seem happy with that, but lets him do so probably because he doesn’t want an outbreak of Stubborn Steve™ in a crowded market. Steve is sure he’ll get reprimanded for it later.

“To Nat liking the earrings,” Bucky toasts when their hands are filled with steaming cups of their own. 

They’re standing just a few steps out of the way of the cider stand, unable to find a free spot at a table. It doesn't matter though, because they kind of just want to drink and walk around and admire the scenery anyway.

Steve smiles. “To our twentieth Christmas together.” 

Because he’s been giving Bucky Christmas gifts for twenty years now, and ain’t that something?

Bucky grins, and their cups clink softly. The mugs are nice this year, so they probably won’t be asking for the deposit back. They can add the mugs to their already too full cabinet.

Cider in hand, Steve and Bucky begin to walk further into the market, pointing out things as they go. There’s colorful pottery and scratchy-looking knitwear, and so,  _ so  _ much chocolate and alcohol -- sometimes in combination.

Bucky nearly trips over a dog, and then bends down to apologize to it, and Steve knows he’ll never love anyone more.

And then Bucky spots the mechanical miniature model of a Christmas neighborhood, with moving trains and blinking lights and all, and breaks out into a grin. 

His gloved hand grabs Steve’s as he drags them over to admire it.

There's two layers of clothes between them, and Steve is still being ridiculous.

The mechanics nerd in Bucky lights up as he points out the turning ferris wheel and Santa’s sleigh flying around over the houses. And the artist in Steve appreciates the detail in the crowd and the colors of the houses and the symmetrical composition of the whole thing.

They stand there for probably ten minutes listening to each other rant.

Bucky doesn’t let go of Steve’s hand.

And when they finally walk away from the little model and Bucky  _ still _ doesn't do so, Steve begins to hope he’s conscious of it. He’s probably not.

Bucky’s slightly scrambled brain is prone to forgetting things he’s doing out of habit, but the inadvertent push and pull of Steve’s hand must be noticeable. Right?

Just to test the waters, to see if Bucky might still be holding his hand on purpose, he gives it a light squeeze. His heart stutters anxiously.

But then Bucky squeezes his hand back tightly, and gives him a grin over the rim of his cup of cider. 

Huh.

Steve feels his cheeks, undoubtedly already tinted from the cold and the alcohol, grow even redder as he smiles back.

And just as Bucky opens his mouth, eyes soft and twinkling under the lights, the wandering group of carolers rounds the corner and penetrates the moment with an out-of-sync belt of Let It Snow.

Bucky clenches his jaw impossibly hard, and Steve dies of laughter.

He realizes with a warm clarity that if Bucky asked him to, he would kill those fucking carolers himself.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> happy holidays! <3
> 
> please feel free to leave some kudos or a comment! i welcome all of it with open arms.
> 
> follow me on [tumblr](https://its-tortle.tumblr.com) for more of this and much else u didn't ask for


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